Page 22 of Forbidden Vows

“Um… you’re a major player in a crime organization that controls New York City and is now expanding to Italy. I’m picturing you watching, I don’t know…” She shrugs. “Sopranos… The Godfather? Something a little heavier than a kid’s movie.”

I stare at her.

Does she really not understand the humor and charm of the Lego Batman movie?

I make my first point. “I would think a teacher of all people would A, not stereotype me.” Then my second point. “And B, you would understand the joy of media and not place an age on it.”

“I apologize,” she says. “I’m sure you wouldn’t exhibit stereotypical criminal behavior.”

“Right.”

“Like breaking into a man’s apartment and attacking him. You wouldn’t do anything like go all-out mafia on my boyfriend?—”

I hold up my hand to make a necessary correction. “Ex. Boyfriend.”

“Threatening him? Punching him in the face? Attacking him in his home?” She plants her hand on her hip.

“Let’s get back to your OG argument for not coming.”

She gazes up at the ceiling. “What was it again? I’ve forgotten, Batman.”

“Girls.”

“Ah.” She snaps her fingers. “That’s right! The girls.”

“There are none,” I say. “I work when I’m home. There’s little time for play. I spend as much time as possible with Haze and Ophelia. Ophelia and I just hit the highest level on our game.”

She cocks her head to the side, giving me that teacher-investigator look like she’s trying to figure out who took a bite out of the pink Play-Doh. “Family time, huh? No girls?”

“Why is that so surprising to you?” A nagging irritation creeps up the back of my neck.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “When you joined the Bachman Brotherhood, I just kinda pictured you sleeping with Italianolive oil heiresses, their surgically enhanced busts dripping in diamonds.”

“Boobs, enhanced or otherwise, are awesome, but I prefer natural. And you happen to have the prettiest pair I’ve ever seen?—”

She heaves an exasperated sigh, her chest rising, proving my point. “Stop right there, please.”

“I’m curious what other fantasies you’ve had of me. Any naughty ones?”

“You, sir, are insufferable. And no. No… ‘naughty fantasies,” she lies. “Though I have pictured you and some big guys clad in black leather smuggling buckets of cocaine into the country via super yachts?”

“I’ve seen too many friends lose their futures in the projects.” I shake my head. “You know I don’t touch drugs.”

After a brief pause, her lovely eyes meet mine. “I'm sorry. That wasn’t fair of me. I know you would never do something like that. I let my imagination run wild, inspired by Hollywood.”

“It’s all good.” I find it hard to stay upset with her for long.

Still, she tests my patience, returning to detective mode and asking, “What do you do, exactly?”

“Come stay with me and find out.” I run the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip, hoping to entice her.

“No, thank you,” she says firmly.

She’s softening to the idea, which is good. Cause she’s going to be on that jet tomorrow, even if I’m carrying her over my shoulder, kicking and screaming.

“I feel like a bad word for making the smuggling drugs comment. I know you’re fiercely loyal to your family. I love that about you.”

Please. Cleo. Tell me more about what you love about me…

---